Written about the time in my life in 1996 when I discovered that working as a teacher full-time was not possible for me.

I am standing in front of the class
knees shaking stomach rolling and knotted, utterly nauseous.
Can I do this? Will they listen?
How do I make the content understood?
Mouth dry…I want to leave.
Paralyzing pressure is always there.

The dismal day arrives when I can suffer no more.
I must escape.
I must concede I cannot endure the anxiety.
It is killing me inside!
I detest this!
Simply cannot stand of constraint of the classroom
or the monotonous material I must convey.

So weary—my body is aching…in agonizing pain.
Knees and ankles throbbing, I can't wait to sit.
I try to persist, but the vacant gaze of students
and the anger welling inside my heavy heart
is more than my exhausted soul can bear.
I am now terrified to be here
the place where I always felt most comfortable
the classroom.
I against my will I must abscond
the one thing that I used to love
teaching.
I am absolutely appalled by the overwhelming realization
that this profession is a great deal more taxing than I can tolerate.

Sadly, I trained all my life to be an educator
only to discover that this driving desire
is beyond my physical potential.
This realization was definitely for me
the day that something spiritual inside me died.
I lost a precious piece of myself.
Will I ever find again that inspiration again?
There is a cavernous hole within my heart.
No way to fill it.
I describe the demise of my dream.